


Paperboy Niall

by deniallisstrong



Series: Niall Tumblr Drabbles (deniallisstrong) [7]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, One Direction Imagines, One Shot, Tumblr: deniallisstrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3912478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniallisstrong/pseuds/deniallisstrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A oneshot imagine that somehow turned into a series?? #sorrynotsorry<br/>Niall the paperboy (supposedly) can’t throw newspapers for his life which leads to a certain amount of sexual tension. Slowly but surely, it grows into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [when you dont wake up early enough to deliver newspapers](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/114298) by niyall. 



“Damn it, again?” You sigh, fishing the paper out from the rose bush. This was the fifth time this week–and it was Friday. Ever since the previous paperboy got replaced, your newspaper had literally been found everywhere except the porch, as if on purpose. You had been waking up at around six every morning to go for a run, but hadn’t yet been able to catch the new paperboy.  _He’s probably just a little fuckboy_ , you laugh to yourself and shrug it off.

And yet, as the end of a month with the new paperboy approaches, your askew papers have you more and more pissed off. So much so, you end up experimenting about when to wake up so you can tell him off. First, it’s 5:45, and then it’s 5:30, and then it’s 5:15.  _Jesus._

At this point, you’ve given up on ever seeing this mysterious, bad-thrower of a paperboy. After tossing and turning one night, not ever sleeping much, you give up and get ready to go for your run. As you sluggishly change into your workout clothes, you feel your tiredness suddenly catch up to you.

You slip outside, turning on the porch light as you do. As you’re tying your shoes, you hear a noise as a bike speeds past your house and suddenly your morning paper is whizzing by your head. “Shit!” You exclaim in surprise, suddenly awake as you duck to the side. “Wow, first time you’ve ever hit the porch!” You yell as you lift your head up, expecting to see a greasy middle schooler.

Instead, you feel your heart begin to pound as his bike light allows you to catch a glimpse of a college-aged guy wearing a newsboy hat with a little tuft of bleached blonde hair sticking out. He grins at you then, his blue eyes flashing, and he turns his head around as he continues to throw papers to your neighbors. “That was the point!”

_Shit._ You turn your head around to face your window, seeing your baggy eyelids and half-assed ponytail. You glance at your watch. 5:10.  _What the hell just happened?_

The next morning, your curiosity gets the best of you and, hoping to get a better glance this time around, you wake up early again. You sigh as you open the door, unsure of what you’re really doing up. If he doesn’t come soon, you’ll be a complete idiot who woke up early for a little fuckboy who didn’t even show up. But, as if on demand, right as you look away you hear him coming. This throw is definitely the worst so far. It ends up somewhere on the roof, much to his chagrin. “Really?” Is all you can think to say this time, throwing your hands in the air. Watching him carefully, you realize he seems to look even more attractive than before, if possible.

“Sorry, darlin. I’m inta golf, not baseball!” He winks at you this time as he pedals away.  _Damn, that cocky son of a bitch._  He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

**************

You know you shouldn’t get up early again. Really, you should just keep sleeping and try to forget about it all. Yet, you can’t help yourself. This time you even decide to wear a little makeup and keep your hair down.  _Shit, he has me and he knows it._ You decide to go outside anyway, feeling your breath quicken and your heart pound as you wait for his arrival.

Soon, he’s near your house, but this time he slows, not saying anything at first. Suddenly, he stops his bike right in front of your driveway. As he starts walking to you, you feel your palms start to sweat and you can’t remember how to breathe. You’re attempting to make out his details in the dark, but you can’t see much more than his shadow.

After what feels like forever, he’s on your porch stairs, handing you your paper. “Third time’s the charm,” he says, smirking.

You’re not sure how to respond to this unforeseen event and all you can think to get out is, “Why are you always here so early?” He raises his eyebrows at you and you realize it sounds like a stupid question.

“Okay, well, uhh, I—” you stammer, not sounding nearly as smart as you’d hoped. “I go for runs in the morning, so do  _not_  give me that look.”

He doesn’t say anything, just takes a step forward to close the gap between you two. “I like to see ya,” he says, making eye contact. You laugh, shakily, knowing that can’t be true.

“No, that’s not it,” you blurt out. “Because I’ve been waking up at different times and I hadn’t seen you before.”

He gives you a look then, and says, “Ahh, so you’ve been tryna find me?”

You run your fingers through your hair, sighing. This was not going as planned. “How come you know exactly what to say so I don’t have an answer?” Around him, the feeling of being flustered was more than an understatement.

“I like to keep ya on your toes,” he says, gesturing to his feet. “But it seems ya like that, too.” You feel your face flush, your brain turned to mush. Before you know what’s happening, he’s coming closer to you, slow enough that you can turn away if you want. But you don’t want to. His lips press against yours, and you struggle to remember how to breathe. You’re molding your lips to fit his, and as you begin to kiss him deeper, he pulls away. “Ah-ah,” he says, wagging his finger at you. “I know the etiquette after a first date,” he quips, smiling big and giving you a wink. “By the way, I’m Niall,” he says, sticking out his hand.

“Y/N,” you say, the word catching in your throat as he leans down to peck your outstretched hand.


	2. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, you’re surprised to find that Niall has already come and gone, leaving no more than a mysterious note.

Opening up your front door the same time as before, it jerks to a stop, something jamming it from fully opening. Confused, you bend down to see that your paper has already been delivered. You look up, half expecting to see Niall biking past, but the neighborhood is quiet. Heart pounding just from the thought of seeing him, you gently pick up the paper. When you realize there’s a note taped to it, your heart starts pounding harder as you hold your breath. 

_742 Brooklawn Dr., 4:15am tomorrow_

_-N_

_That sneaky son of a bitch._  Looking down at your watch, you sigh loudly when you realize you’ll have to get up more than an hour earlier tomorrow. All this wasn’t the best for your sleep schedule.

**********************

Showing up at the address the next morning, you try to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.  _Am I really so weak to let a boy I’ve really only met once convince me to show up at an unknown address in the early hours of the morning?_

 Your heart confirms you are. As soon as you see him, sitting on his porch steps and sleepily staring off into the distance, it starts pounding furiously. Breathing in shallowly, you slowly begin to walk up to him. He automatically flashes you a smile when he catches your eye and jumps up. “Glad to see ya made it!“ He greets, way too enthusiastic for it being so early in the morning.

Shrugging your shoulders, you hint, “Yeah, but I’m not sure what I made it here _for_.”

“Good,” he responds slyly, not taking the bait. Then, with a smile, he’s pulling out his bike from the backyard and gives in to your look of confusion. “I thought I’d give ya a look at what it’s like to be a lowly paperboy.” 

Your eyebrows shoot up.  _Of course I should have expected that. It_  is _four fucking am in the morning after all._  “How?” Is the only reply your sleepy brain is able to muster up.

He pats his handlebars and smiles. “Get on.”

“Pfft,” you start, ready to laugh it off, but he just looks at you. Realizing he’s serious, you awkwardly situate yourself onto his bike, both laughing as you flounder. Pedaling, he starts to ride towards the general direction of your house, pulling papers out from his bag as he does so. He explains the best way to throw the papers, which route is the best one to take to hit all of the houses, and, most of all, how to purposefully miss. When you hear this, you whip your head around to look at him. “You seriously  _meant_ to miss my porch that whole time?”

He struggles to keep his smile when he sees your incredulous face and then looks away. He’s quiet for a moment as he fiddles with his bag. “I didn’t mean ta miss your porch the  _first_ time,” he corrects, clearing his throat and finally glancing up at you. “But then it became a game.” He lowers his voice and continues, “It gets really lonely out here on me own, and after I’d missed your porch a couple of times, I just wanted ta continue. I wanted to piss off whoever was livin there so much that I’d eventually see them, if only so that they’d tell me off.”

You snort and turn back around. “Well, it worked,” you sigh, thinking back to your sleepless nights. “Here I am.” You’d have never imagined that would have eventually led you here.

After a moment of silence, he starts again, so quietly you’re not really sure if he’s talking to you or himself. “I didn’t expect ya to be so beautiful.” You feel your face flush and you two are silent for a couple of minutes. You concentrate on the wind blowing your hair back, watching as the houses and the flying newspapers all blur together.

Finally, you turn your head around to face him. “I didn’t expect you to be so charming,” you chuckle, an ache in your chest when you imagine a lonely, witty Niall with no one to banter with.

He flashes a trademark grin at you and winks. “No one ever expects that, love.” You roll your eyes, but you can feel a smile growing on your face.  _What a dork._  Reaching your house, he slows a bit, making sure to gingerly throw your paper right onto your doorstep. He stops the bike then, gently helping you off, and shrugs. “This is near the end of my route.” Smirking, he walks over to your fence and leans up against it. “So, you ready to take over me job?”

You shake your head, taking a step towards him as you do so. “Nah, I think you’re doing well on your own.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Ah, ya really think so?” Taking a step closer, he closes the distance between you two and continues, “Because I kinda like havin you around.” You’re all too aware of your shaky breath and muffled thoughts as he lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re much more talkative than the houses I normally see, and much more entertainin.”

“Mmm,” you murmur, your eyes suddenly fixating on his moving lips. All you can think about is that kiss you shared a couple of mornings ago, almost in this exact same spot. He catches your eye, watching your expression carefully, and before you know it you two are leaning into each other, his lips finding yours. He pulls back suddenly, and looks at you seriously.

“But, ya know, it’d be nice if I could see you at a normal time sometime.”

You pull on his shirt until he’s so close that your noses are touching. “Deal,” you whisper, smiling as you lean in to kiss him again. “How about tonight?”


	3. Niall Hates Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While planning for your date that night, you learn that Niall does NOT like surprises, and he’ll do practically anything to get away from one.

“No  _way_ ,” you protest fiercely, the two of you still standing outside your house. “There’s no way in  _hell_ I’m gonna let you plan this date, too.”

Giving you a look, a little smile on his face, he remarks, “Ya forget, babe. I know where ya live.” Smirking, he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his hands apologetically.

“Ah, but so do I, good sir,” you point out, eyebrows raised as you pat the pocket where you placed the note with his address on it.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, knowing there’s no way he’d be able to win this one. Sighing, he replies, “Fine, but let me at least take ya…wherever it is we’re goin.” As he trails off, your eyes dart to the bike. Incredulous, you frantically shake your head at the suggestion.

Laughing at your horrified facial expression, he cries indignantly, “I have a car!”

“Thank the  _Lord_ ,” you chuckle, rubbing your aching backside that‘d probably have handlebar marks all over it for a week. “See you at seven then.” It’s your turn to wink, but the twinkle in his eyes keeps you from being able to keep a straight face.

“See ya, love,” he murmurs, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before he climbs back on his bike. Pedaling away, he calls, “But don’t you dare think you’re gonna pay for whatever it is we’re goin ta tonight!” And with that, he’s gone, purposefully leaving you with no way to argue.

**************

Intently watching the GPS on your phone, you command, “Okay, turn here.”

Doing so, he mumbles, disgruntled, “Now we’ve gone in a circle.”

Trying to keep him from figuring out where you were taking him, you’d been giving him false turns. That way, when you finally arrived, he wouldn’t know where he was. Too bad you had never been the best at directions.

“Do you know where we’re going ye—“ you interrupt yourself to give your final direction. “Oh shit! Turn here,” you cry, grabbing onto the door handle to keep from ramming into him as he turns the corner sharply. You didn’t need to end up in his lap just yet. This  _was_  your first real date after all.

Seeing that it’s some kind of indoor/outdoor entertainment center, he teases, “What, we gonna play laser tag or somethin?” Though he’s watching your expression a littletoo closely for his comment to be a joke.

“Oh, I see,” you say slowly, catching on. “Ni doesn’t  _like_  surprises, couldn’t even _stand the idea_  of not driving wherever we were going.” A smile growing on your face, you can’t help but grin as you draw out his discomfort.

“No, that’s not it!” He protests, but even he knows you’re right.

You had been planning on telling him the plan when you arrived, but now that you knew how  _invested_ he was, you were aching to prolong it as long as possible.

“Mmm, no? Well you’ll see,” you taunt. Opening your car door and stepping out, you spin your head around to face him. “If you didn’t care so much, I would’ve told you,” you tease, hearing him grunt as you close the door.

Leading him into the building, you make sure to stop right inside the entrance and take your time looking around the premises. As you drag him to the laser tag kiosk, you ask the employee how much a game of laser tag costs.

“Eight dollars a person,” he answers as you flash Niall a smirk. Nodding, you dramatically put a pointed finger over your mouth as you look off into the distance, pretending to think. “Nah,” you finally respond and you thank him as you lead Niall by the hand away from the kiosk.

“ _Damn it_. You’re _killing_  me,” he whines, starting to pout.

“Sorry, love,” you reply, no mercy in your voice, still very much amused by his protesting.

“Ya know, it really worries me how much you’re enjoying this,” he groans.

Continuing to lead him around the whole building, you call back to him, “Not so easy when you’re on the other side of the surprise, eh?” Beaming at him, you mutter, “At least you only had to wait, like,  _half_ a day.” He doesn’t respond, just starts to impatiently shake his arm that you’re still holding on to. At long last, you give in. After you slide by the arcade and leisurely ponder the wonders of the change machine, of course.

Your eyes finally stopping on the counter in the back left of the store, you lead Niall to the area you had been purposefully avoiding for the past ten minutes. “Two for mini golf, please,” you smile, glancing over at Niall.

“Finally,” he exhales, his expression immediately shifting from one of restlessness to one of peace. “I was afraid this wasn’t even the right place and ya were gonna make me drive somewhere else!” 

Shaking your head, you pat his hand and retort, “I was afraid you weren’t gonna make it.” 

“You’re such a dork,” he quips fondly, rolling his eyes as the employee heads to the back to fetch two clubs and balls. When you don’t respond, he continues, his voice low, “You remembered I said I was inta golf.” He rearranges your hand so that he can interlace his fingers in between yours.

“I thought about taking you to baseball  _just_  because of that comment, but I didn’t want you to be  _too_  embarrassed when I beat you,” you laugh, lighting hitting your shoulder against his.

“Thank ya,” he replies gratefully, playfully wiping his forehead of sweat.

When the employee takes longer to come back than you expect, you add softly, more serious this time, “And of course I remembered, Ni.” A warm feeling slides up from your stomach to your forehead when you look up at his bright eyes and content expression. “How could I forget? When it comes to you, I’m like an elephant.”

By now, the employee has come back with the balls and clubs. Before you can stop him, Niall is pulling out his wallet and handing the guy a twenty-dollar bill.

Turning back to you, he squeezes your hand and whispers breathily in your ear, so close you can feel his smiling lips against your ear. “You’re the cutest elephant I’ve ever met, darlin, and I’ve come across a whole lot of em.” Leaning your head against his shoulder, you have a feeling he isn’t talking about elephants anymore.  


	4. Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In where you learn Niall maybe hates losing more than he hates surprises

“I can’t believe you got beaten by a _girl_ ,” you taunt, poking his (admittedly firm) bicep as you head back to his car.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his expression cloudy. All signs of a happy-go-lucky Niall are gone. Left in his place is a grumpy sore loser. “I was  _close_! If ya hadn’t made that last shot I would’ve won.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were so  _competitive_ ,” you continue, attempting to pull him out of his mood. “I’ll add that to my list of things of things I now know about you: Ni hates surprises  _and_  losing, especially when it involves his…” Trailing off, you abruptly realize you don’t know how to finish the sentence. _Shit._

When you pause unexpectedly, he glances over at you, catching your eye. Your throat tightening, his eye contact leaves you breathless.  “Date,” you gulp, feeling the blood rise to your cheeks. The air between the two of you has quickly gone from being playful to painful.

Niall sighs, immediately cursing himself for not taking the opportunity to ask you to be his girlfriend. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before then, and now the moment was gone.

Panicking for a moment as he climbs into the car, he responds after a second of awkward silence. “Well, I guess we’ll have ta play  _real_ golf so we can see who really is the better player.” He smiles at you when you slide into your seat, a hint of sadness reflected in his eyes. Keeping your eyes focused on his expression, the juxtaposition between his smile and his somber eyes hits you with a sudden ache.

Knowing he’s trying to keep the conversation light, though, you simply laugh at his determination as you agree to it. Anything to move the conversation from the previous subject.

Aside from the radio and the occasional comment, the car ride is quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought about something, so you try not to disturb him. Pulling up to your house, he suddenly grins at you, all traces of his bad mood gone. “I know  _just_ the place fa golf.” Offering to pick you up at four, he adds, “Make sure ya wear something nice.”

Raising your eyebrows at him, you sassily gesture to your outfit. “What, is this not good enough for you, huh? Cause if so, I’m out.” You fake for the door handle, a laugh escaping your lips.

Surprised by your brashness, he chuckles, turning a little red. Shaking his head, he explains, “I just mean…” He clears his throat, trying to think of the right words. “What you’re wearing is perfect. Something like that.” His words are speeding up more and more until he’s rambling. “Don’t change a bi—“

You interrupt him by placing one finger over his mouth. “I got it,” you smile, leaning towards him. “I was just kidding.” His eyes glancing down at your finger, his heart pounds from your closeness to his lips. Kissing it gently, he presses his lips over each segment of your finger until his lips have traveled up to the top of your hand.

Looking up at you, he carefully moves his lips up your arm, wanting to finish what he started. “Don’t change a bit.”

**************

“Where did ya learn ta play?” Niall asks, a little breathless. The astonishment in his voice leads you to tap your hip against his.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you tease, giving him a wink. “Maybe it was my  _super hot_  ex-boyfriend.” Sauntering over to set up your shot as you get ready to swing, you playfully wag your stuck out butt at him.

Hearing him inhale sharply through his teeth, you’re very much aware his eyes are glued to your ass. You swing, the shot curving perfectly towards the hole.

“Your turn,” you taunt. Glancing back at him, you catch Niall’s eyes still trained on your backside.

“That’s not  _fair_ ,” he pouts. “Ya did that on  _purpose_!” He exclaims, trying to nonchalantly rub his sweaty hands against his pants without you noticing.

You shrug, a flirty smile on your face. Who said you weren’t competitive yourself? “All’s fair in love and war,” you remind him smugly.

Sighing, he goes to swing, his shot not far off from yours. “Ha,” he says under his breath, raising one eyebrow at you.

“Ah, well there’s still quite a bit of game left,” you reply, looking worriedly at your matching scores.

As you continue on, the game doesn’t get any easier for either of you. After you two constantly go back and forth between who’s winning and who’s losing, you finally end up tying. “No, okay, really? Who taught ya?” He asks, sounding slightly exasperated as you drive the golf cart back to the country club. The wind blowing through your hair, sitting so close to Niall, contentedly reminds you of the bike ride you had just a few short days ago. Catching yourself grinning from the memory, you chuckle softly as you look over at Niall.

“My dad,” you confess, pulling up to the club. “I haven’t played for a while, though.” You smirk at him as you turn off the engine. “But, by the looks of it, it seems that was better for you.”

“Hey!” He cries, shoving you slightly. “Well, ya know, ya aren–” He stops, his smile suddenly shrinking as you hear him mutter, “Oh shit.”

“What?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you watch him closely. “What is it?” You ask, feeling a sense of panic coming over you, your brain instantly flashing through all the things you possibly could have done.

Gesturing slightly to a smiling, middle-aged couple coming towards you, Niall whispers, “That’s me parents.”

As you feel your heart start to beat faster, you breathe the only thought that pops into your head. “Well,  _fuck._ ”


	5. Ni Tells a Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In where things spin out of control, all in the presence of Niall's oblivious parents

Catching a glimpse of your panicked expression, he whispers calmly, “It’s okay. _Breathe_.” He rubs your thigh soothingly, the only part still out of view from his approaching parents.

“Normally, when you _meet someone’s parents_ ,” you hiss, your throat tightening up, “you have a bit of _advance notice._ ”

Not able to help himself, Niall sneaks a glance at you. “Don’t worry, dear,” he reassures. His hand on your thigh still, in contact with the skin beneath your dress, makes him have to fight the urge to kiss you hard against the seat right then and there. “Ya look like the classiest lady ta ever set foot in a country club.” He gives you the smallest wink possible, making you wonder if maybe it’s not a wink at all and you’re just starting to see things.

“Mam! Da!” Niall calls out once his parents are in earshot, forcing a smile. “I didn’t expect to see _ya_ here,” he says, attempting to hide any surprise (or, God forbid, _frustration_ ) in his voice.

“We didn’t think we’d see ya either!” His mom cries, her eyes aglow. “Your dad’ll tell ya that I was just wondering if ya ever used your membership here since we never see ya!”

A look of chagrin barely concealed, he shrugs his shoulders. “I do me best, mam.”

Finally glancing over to you, his mom practically bounces up and down from excitement. “ _Oh!_ I’m being completely rude. _Ni_.” She fusses, giving him a _how dare you not introduce me_ look. “ _Who_ is this lovely lady?”

“ _Maura_ ,” Niall’s dad warns quietly.

“Oh, I just wanna _meet_ her, Bobby!” She says enthusiastically, her face lighting up at the very idea.

Clearing his throat to interrupt his mom’s overzealous rambling, he introduces you. “Mam, da, this is me girlfriend, Y/N.”

Your eyes widening as the word _girlfriend_ bounces past your ears, you carefully move your head to look over at him, trying not to draw too much attention to your reaction. Had you really just heard that right? An unreadable expression on his face, you really aren’t sure what to think.

“Oh, how _cute_!” His mom coos. “I’m Maura,” she exclaims, extending her hand to you. Shaking it firmly, and nodding to Niall’s dad as he introduces himself, you flash your best smile at both of them. You _are_ trying to put forth your best impression, after all, even if Niall’s doing a pretty good job fucking up your thought process. “How long have ya two been together?” Maura asks, a large grin on her face. Bobby simply glares at her, a small, forlorn sigh escaping his lips.

“Yes, _Niall_ ,” you say, nauseously sweet, your eyes pointed on him like lasers, eyebrows raised just enough to get your point across to him. “How long _have_ we been together?”

Avoiding your hard gaze, he laughs nervously, responding as nonchalantly as possible, “Well, ya know, we’re still pretty new, ma.” You snort under your breath. _That_ was an understatement.

“Well, ya two should come and eat dinner with us at the restaurant!” Maura laughs as she obliviously continues rambling on, unaware of Niall’s horrified expression. “Has Ni taken you to the restaurant? Has he told ya anything about it? _Oh_ , it’s so delicious! Best five star restaurant around. _Please_ , why don’t ya join us?”

Your first urge is, of course, to say no, in spite of what you know the right thing to do is. But Niall’s _little_ lie was really getting to you.

However, it _would_ give you a chance to learn more about Niall’s still unknown past, his life outside of being a paperboy that liked to golf.

“I’d _love_ to, Maura! Thank you so much for the invite,” you smile at her, your voice raising a few octaves. Your heart begins pounding just from the idea of it, the idea of being prodded and judged all evening leaving a bad taste in your mouth. As if reading your thoughts, a little sigh escapes Niall’s mouth, just loud enough for you to catch it.

***************

The whole walk over to the restaurant is quiet, except for Maura attempting to fill the awkward silence by continuing to rave about the restaurant. Once you arrive, Niall makes a point to walk in ahead of everyone, speeding up his gait to do so. Once the host sees him, he calls out, “Hey, Niall! I have your–” Niall gives the host an oddly hard look. You notice Niall slightly shake his head at the host, just enough for the host’s eyes to light up in recognition. Looking behind where Niall is standing, his eyes landing on the three of you, the host trails off as he clears his throat. “ _Oh_!” He cries, surprised. “ _And_ Niall’s parents!” He looks at his parents for a long time, purposefully avoiding eye contact with you. Finally, he rests his eyes on you to which to asks, “ _Ni_. Who is _this_?” His tone seems oddly forced.

_Jesus_ , why the _fuck_ was Niall acting so shady? What secret could he possibly be needing to hide from you, your parents, and whoever the hell _else_ he was lying to? “Leonard, this is me… girlfriend.” You hear the words leave Niall’s mouth, but your own thoughts can’t keep you focused on them.  

As the host greets you, loudly and clearly asking Niall if he wants a table for _four_ , the words sound drowned out behind your mess of a brain. What other girls has he brought to this place? Your heart pounds at the thought.

What if the host knows all of them, knows that Niall is seeing _more than one_ at a time? Your hands start to clam up.

What if this is where he brings his _actual_ girlfriend? Fuck, now you’re about ready to puke.

Aware that you must be picking up on more than he’s hoping you would, Niall looks behind him worriedly to give you a quick glance. _Damn_ , that’s what he gets for dating such a smart girl. Your facial expression says it all. You _know_ something is up, and you’re _not_ gonna stand for his shit much longer.


	6. Brewing of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner drags on, emotions run high… all while Niall doesn’t seem to give a damn

“So, tell us a little bit about yourself,” Bobby says loudly in an attempt to be heard over Maura’s babbling about something or other.

Clearing your throat, you can’t help but imagine this as a sort of job interview to win the position of Niall’s  _approved_  “girlfriend”. You’ve always hated job interviews.

As you begin to explain about yourself—the boring basics: major, year in school, extracurriculars—your eyes wander over to Niall. Absentmindedly biting his nails as he stares off into the massive golf course behind you, his eyebrows furrowed, you let out an involuntary sigh. He hasn’t seemed to be listening at all the whole evening. Is he even aware you’re doing this  _all for him_?

Fighting the urge to rub at your eyes, you force yourself to look away from him. Not that any attempt to stop worrying has been working for you yet anyway. It’s not like you can ever  _really_  distract yourself from him, because not only is he  _across the table_  from you, but, of course, most of the conversation is about him or your relationship with him. Two topics that aren’t exactly sitting well with you at the moment.

“Did you know Niall’s a morning person?” Maura starts, no doubt trying to fill the slight lull in the conversation. A little chuckle leaves your lips as you think about your 5 am meetings with Niall. Of  _course_  you know that. As Maura continues on, telling you that Niall used to wake up at 4 am every holiday growing up, you lose track of her words as you catch sight of her mannerisms. Her eyes light up, her laugh booming, and it all just seems like _Niall_. 

But  _no_ , you’re pissed at Niall. That’s not supposed to be endearing.

Your emotions have been running rampant all evening. One moment, you’d be filled with a sense of love for everything about Niall as a child, and in the next your heart would sink as you’d remember his shifty eyes and forced conversation from earlier.

After what seems like an eternity, the food finally arrives, allowing you a break in the conversation. But you don’t want food. You want to get away, allow your throbbing head a break while you cry, throw up, maybe even both.  _But_  more than anything, you just want Niall to explain it all away, wrap you in a kiss and tell you something— _anything_ —that makes sense. But so far it didn’t seem that he was going to do that, if his shoddy attention was giving you any hint. Has he even once  _noticed_ you’re upset? Or has he been more worried about some side girl? The thought of him slipping his arm around the skinny waist of some model with gorgeous, shiny blonde hair and big boobs sends a shiver down your spine.

Picking at your food while attempting to engage in the conversation as fully as possible, you finally hit your breaking point. “I’m gonna run to the restroom,” you interrupt suddenly, setting your napkin onto your plate as you push your chair back with your legs. “I’ll be back,” you promise, your smile quickly fading as you spin on your heel.

At first walking at a normal pace to the bathroom, when you turn the corner into the hallway, your feet pick up speed until you’re running into the single-person bathroom. Locking the door behind you, you exhale deeply, feeling all your pent up energy release in that one breath. Hands shaking, you flip the faucet on in an attempt to distract yourself. As tears well up behind your eyes, you flick your face with water in an attempt to calm your thoughts—and hide the red puffiness that’s already beginning to form behind your eyes.

“Y/N?” You hear the whisper snake through the walls, Irish accent thick. Two gentle knocks on the door start your heart pounding. “Are ya okay?” The worry in his voice almost makes you feel guilty.  _Almost._

“Niall,” you growl, your vision blurring from tears. “ _You’re_  the problem. So you’re not going to help right now.”

“Can we talk about it?” When you don’t answer, he begs, “ _Please?_ ”

Feeling a sudden burst of anger, any sense of sadness eclipsed by your overwhelming  _need_  to chew him out, you fling the door open to squint at his surprised expression. “About  _what_ , Niall?” You whisper intensely as you begin to step towards him until he’s almost cornered into a wall. “About how, _first_ , you lie to your parents about being my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t—“ He starts, but you don’t let him finish. You aren’t done yet.

“And  _then_ , you’re acting super  _weird_ with the host who seems to know  _something_  is up and the whole meal you hardly even  _acknowledge_  me? You didn’t even want to go to dinner with me and your own  _parents_!” You fling your hands around wildly as your voice begins to rise. “I mean what the _fuck_  do you expect me to think?”

“I know what it looks like, babe,” he pleads, his voice low in an attempt to calm you down. “Whatever you’re thinkin isn’t the case, though. I promise.” His eyes wide, he carefully puts a hand out to stroke your shoulder.

“ _Don’t_  touch me,” you snarl and he slinks his arm back. “Who knows how many _other_  girls you’ve taken to this place, have eaten in that exact same table, overlooking the  _romantic_  golf course right on the water?” Your breath coming out in short spurts, you spit out, “Hell,  _maybe_  there’s one that’s supposed to eat here with you tonight!”

“Is  _that_ what ya think?” He sounds appalled, his hands balling up into fists.

“Honestly, Ni,” you sigh, your anger fading, tiredness quickly replacing it. “I don’t want to hear your lies. I just wanna go home.” You’ve changed your mind. You _don’t_ want to hear him explain it all away, don’t want to give him the chance to play you. You huff, breaking eye contact with him as you plan out your escape route. You brush past him, purposefully avoiding his look of hurt and sadness.

“Can I just explain?” He calls out to you, his voice cracking slightly. You allow yourself to look back at him once. His arms are crossed, his eyebrows so furrowed that his eyes have seemed to shrink. When he catches your eye, he cries, “What about me parents?  _Please_.”

“Tell them I got sick or something.” Flicking your wrist at him, you turn away again. “I don’t really care. Just leave me  _alone_.”

This time, all you hear from him is a sigh so deep that it echoes in your ears long after you storm out.


	7. Running to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how hard you try, Niall just won’t let you forget

Your eyes trained on your feet in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the occasional passerby, you race out of the club. No one needs to see your bloodshot eyes, the dried tear stains. You’ve already been embarrassed more than enough today.

Finally reaching your car, a pang of guilt comes over you. You _had_ been Niall’s ride, after all. Now he’d have no way back home. You pause for a moment, jingling the keys in your hand as you force yourself to think it through. The idea of going back to find him, though, curls your stomach into tight, interwoven knots. Suddenly, any trace of guilt is gone, anger and hurt quickly taking its place.

Your heart hasn’t stopped pounding since your fight with Niall. You’re still half expecting to hear him behind you, feel his hand grasp your arm in an attempt to make you stay. But it’s silent around you. Maybe you’d always been the second choice, maybe he would have pleaded for the  _other_  girl to come back. 

Squinting, you get into the car, slamming the door shut with more force than you intend. Jerking the clutch into reverse and then eventually into drive, all the nearby employees’ eyes on you, you blink away the rapidly appearing tears. Fiddling with the radio, you struggle to even find a station you can stand to listen to. When you come up empty, you eventually settle on silence. Your knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, your foot doesn't let up of the gas pedal until you eventually arrive at your driveway.

The whole drive over, you had just been  _waiting_ to get home,  _praying_  to get there faster. When you pull in, though, you realize maybe this isn’t the best place to find solace from your thoughts. A flood of memories wash over you here: waiting every morning at the doorstep for the non-fuckboy Niall Horan; you breathless as he first approached your porch, eventually giving you an unexpected kiss; that note later left for you on your doorstep; your invitation for a date that, this time,  _you’d_  plan.

Sighing heavily as you involuntarily flinch from your jumble of thoughts, you push open the front door, not bothering to stop it before it slams to a close behind you. Looking around frantically for your workout clothes, you pull your hair up into a ponytail as you get ready to go for a run.

The plan: exhaust your body so much you can’t possibly think about anything except your shoes hitting the pavement and your heaving breath. No room in your head for what ifs, no room to replay today’s events over and over, and, most of all, no room for Niall.

**************

You run until you feel your legs begin to wobble, your breath so shallow you’re left gasping for air. But when you finally make it to your house and you see a familiar figure on your porch, you forget about all of that. Instead, your heart racing, you slow momentarily. In fight or flight situations, you’d almost always gone for flight. This time is no different. You allow your feet to continue their stride, landing harder and harder on the cement each time. You’re _so close_  to making it out of earshot when you hear him call out your name. Even though you know you shouldn’t, you glance back at Niall. By this point, he’s made it to your fence. Not thinking, you slow down a bit to a jog, which Niall takes as an invitation. Taking up stride next to you, he heaves in spurts, “Look... if there was  _really_  another girl... would I be here now?”

You bend over to catch your breath, your forearms resting on your thighs, because it gives you an excuse to avoid making eye contact with him. One look into those light blue eyes would break what little resolve you had left. Instead, eyes still on the ground, you spit out, “I don’t know, Niall.  _Would_  you?” You truly don’t know the answer to the question. You aren’t sure  _what_ to believe anymore. The whole thing now seemed like a lie: every laugh, every date, every moment.

“I don’t know!” He cries, flinging his arms in the air. “I’ve never had ‘another girl’, so I couldn’t tell ya.”

You’re breathing shallowly still, but it’s no longer from the run. “I shouldn’t have come back home,” you mumble at the pavement, more to yourself than to him. “When you’re dating a  _paperboy_ , of course he’s gonna show up at your  _house_.” It’s too late to do anything about it now. You had just wanted to be alone, wanted to be away from it all. Can’t he just let you  _forget_  about him?

“Ah, well, yeah. That is one of the little quirks about us,” Niall smirks. “Sorry it took me a bit longer than usual, though. It was cause, ya know, I had ta catch a ride with my, well, bewildered parents.” When you don’t smile at that, don’t chuckle, don’t even give him a look, he pleads, “Will ya  _look_ at me?” He steps around you so that he’s facing you. “Please?” He bends down until he’s squatting, his eyes looking up into yours.

“No,” you sniffle, breaking eye contact, your stuffy nose giving away your wreck of an emotional state. Niall doesn’t respond, just lets out a deflated sigh. Feeling the need to explain yourself, you finish in a whisper, “Cause if I do, you’ll convince me to do something I’m gonna regret.”

“What if I said,” he breathes, his hand slowly, cautiously, lifting your chin to bring your gaze to his. “I wanted ya ta be me girlfriend?” Giving you a second to process his words before he continues, he finishes, “Would ya regret that?”


	8. Empty and Hollow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your words just end up hurting Niall, you wonder if maybe it’s just best to call it a day

“ _Niall_ ,” you huff out as soon as the word ‘girlfriend’ leaves his mouth. Tearing your eyes from his as you purse your lips together, an overwhelming urge to run overcomes you again. “You can’t just  _ask_ me that.” Your hands are fidgeting at your side–suddenly, you can’t remember where you normally put them: straight at your side, against your pant legs, or held tight against the breathy cotton of your shirt. 

Finally settling on your shirt, your fingers burying themselves deep into the fabric, you allow yourself one little peek at him, just slightly lifting your head to gauge his reaction. Hurt flashes across his face for only a millisecond before he huffs in return, his voice rising, expression contouring into one of poorly concealed anger. “Why the  _hell_  not?”

“Because…” You turn your body sideways to his as you fumble for words, your breath coming out in short spurts as the words slip out. “That doesn’t fix anything!” Your hand gripping even tighter around your shirt, your teeth clenching, you continue on a bit louder. “What’s next? Next time we get into a fight, are you going to ask me to _move in_  with you?” You hear Niall let out an exasperated sigh, and you know you should just stop there, but you can’t stop yourself. The words that come next only have a split second to fester in your thoughts before you spit them out like fire. “Fucking  _marry_  you?” You let out a cackle of a laugh, the kind of laugh you know will hurt, the kind of laugh you  _want_ to hurt. At this point, you don’t feel anything anymore, just empty and hallow, like a rotten tree stump. Skin and bones, blood and a beating heart, but little else. 

The only sound is a nearby bird chirping from your oak tree, whistling a merry tune as your vile words fill the air, creating what feels like a thick mist between the two of you. The unexpected silence allows you too much time to think about the words that have left your mouth.  _Yell back, Niall,_ you plead to yourself, hoping somehow that he’ll hear it. _Don’t_ let  _me say those awful, terrible things to you. I want you to_ fight  _back._ Sending him your mess of thoughts as a sad sort of telepathic attempt, you remain quiet. The tension slowly leaving your body again, all that remains is a  _worn out_ version of you, a limp rag doll that’s been played with for far too long _._ Catching his eye after a moment, there is only sadness behind his normally sparkling blue eyes. “Ya wouldn’t want those things?” He finally asks, his eyebrows furrowed and his voice low.

“Ni…” You sigh as you try to find a way to explain yourself but come up blank. “That’s not what I meant.”

Biting the edge of his lip slightly, he gives you a small nod but doesn’t respond.

That’s not enough. You can still feel the words tight in your chest, like you’ve breathed them in so far from the air that now they’re stuck inside your lungs. You can’t meet his eyes, only able to look down at the tops of his shoes as you watch your own feet shift in place. After too long of a silence, you finally get out, “Look, I wanted to hurt you.” All of your emotions returning as the words bubble up behind your lips, you whimper, “Like you did me. It’s not fair, I know.”

Niall’s hand gently starts to find its way to your cheek, wanting to console you, to tell you it’s alright. But you instinctively pull back at the first signs of his touch.  _I’m sorry._ You want the words to leave your mouth so badly as he jerks back suddenly from your movement, as if he’s burned himself against a hot stove. You feel the words so close to your tongue, can almost bridge the gap from those words to Niall. And yet, the words stay holed up inside you, your mouth firmly closed, a drawbridge in place.

After a moment of silence, he finally points out quietly, without much emotion, “This isn’t a competition.” He sighs before continuing on. “If one of us wins, we both lose.”

So that’s it. You’ve said something now that’s gone and broken it all. Whatever  _it_ was. Whatever small chance you two had of sewing this broken thing back together is gone, and all because you wanted to hurt him. What kind of fucked up person  _wants_ to hurt the one they love?

Your purse pushed up against your body, you brace yourself to head inside and just call it a day. You just want to leave Niall in peace to find someone with less complications, where love doesn’t always have to seem like such a  _chore_.

“But it  _is_  fair… I get it.”  The words shock you so much you feel all of your breath leave in one quick exhale as you drop your purse against your torso. “I did hurt ya,” he tells you with a gulp. “I know I did. But I didn’t mean ta, I promise.” At these last words, his eyes catch the ground, suddenly very interested in the uneven cracks in the sidewalk.

For some odd reason, despite maybe what’s for the best, you believe him. But maybe it’s just because you can’t seem to think straight around him. After a long pause, he mumbles, “Will ya let me inside so we can talk about it?”

Your stomach flipping at the idea, you let out a shaky breath. As you blink back fresh tears, your mess of thoughts conflicting with each other, your gut instinct guides you as you shake your head. You  _don’t_  want to talk about it. You just want to cut your losses, want to let this all go before it has the chance to all come crashing down in front of you. Giving a small shake of your head a couple of times, you watch his eyes grow dull. At some point, though, without your conscious knowledge, it turns into a nod. “You have one chance,” you warn him as you spin on your heel to walk inside. “No more bullshit.”


	9. A Cuppa Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall attempts to make up for all he’s done wrong by doing it the only way he knows how–food

With Niall in tow, you stumble inside the house, abruptly stopping in front of the couch in the living room. You’d been pretending to be angry, in control–you’d always been relatively good at hiding your emotions like that–but in all reality, all you felt was _lost._ Giving a quick glance around the familiar room to buy a little time–not sure quite what to do or where to go or what to say–he just smiles at you and quietly says, “Sit.” He gestures to the couch, the sparkle in his eyes back for a flash of a moment. Looking up at him with a slightly confused glance (that you _know_ you didn’t hide well), you give a hesitant nod. He strolls into the kitchen without a word. Your stomach continuing to churn, you simply sit down at the very edge of the couch, feeling oddly uncomfortable in your _own_   _fucking house._ A sigh leaves your lips, your whirlwind of a brain not letting you rest even a bit. What should you say? How should you break the tense, awkward silence? The one that continues to grow and grow and _grow,_  like all of the unspoken words are forming a larger and larger mass between the two of you with every passing moment. 

A sound–Niall’s voice, you learn too late–unintelligible over the top of your racing thoughts, you blink twice to (try) to bring yourself back to the present. “Sugar or milk?” He repeats as you shift your body slightly towards the back of the couch to catch a glimpse of him. He’s crouched down, looking for something or another in one of your cabinets, his eyes catching yours from down below.

“For…..?” You ask, raising an eyebrow, not quite sure what he’s been concocting while you’ve been fretting.

“A cuppa tea,” he grins for a moment before his face darkens into a frown. “I know I’ve made it a really shit day fa ya. This is the least I can do.”

“Ni—” you start in an attempt to change his mind, but he doesn’t let you finish. Honestly, though, it’s a good thing. After you’ve been interrupted, you realize you don’t really have any idea what you would’ve said after that anyway.

” _Really_ ,” he insists, his eyebrows bunching together. He clears his throat, hovering the packets of sugar and the carton of milk above the ground in front of him. His eyes follow his hands, as if he might drop them if he didn’t have his undivided attention on the two items. “As I was finishin lunch with me mam and da, I couldn’t stop thinkin back ta ya hurt face before ya stormed off.” He finally looks up as he finishes his words, setting the items down as his dark eyes lock with yours. As the kettle begins to whistle, he slowly glides his hands over his thighs before he stands up. Leaving the milk and sugar on the floor, he pulls the kettle off of the stove before he sighs into the teapot, “I wanted ta comfort ya.” His eyes dart over to yours, as if he’s worried you’ve left, before he looks away again. “But I was the reason fa your pain, so I couldn’t. It was an awful feelin.”

His eyes fall back on yours, and while you’re aware this is supposed to be your turn to talk, you’re not sure quite what to say in response. As you continue to process his words, you just give him a little nod. Without blinking, all you say is “Milk,” finally responding to his earlier question.

There’s silence for a moment as he grabs the carton off of your tile floor where he left it, adding it and the hot tea into your favorite mug before he carefully clutches it in both hands. As he shuffles over, the sound of the mug and saucer slightly wobbling with every step fills the empty room, leaving it ringing in your ears. When he’s almost reached you, he sighs, “Babe, look, I know you’re not ready ta forgive me yet. But I’m just gonna start in.”

He hands you the mug and a few coffee crackers with a small halfhearted smile, his hands itching to caress your face, itching to make all of your hurt go away with just one touch.

But that won’t help. He flinches at the thought, well aware of the not-so-subtle scowl on your face.

Giving him a single nod as his eyes find yours, he backs up into a nearby chair without breaking your gaze.

There’s a moment of heavy, cold silence, before his voice comes out a little shakily at first, complete with a thick Irish accent. “I had it all planned out, okay?” He spits out each word a little bit faster until eventually you can barely keep up with what he’s saying. “I was gonna ask ya ta be me girlfriend after our golf date, which was really fun by the way and you’re really good at it even though I tried ta pretend I was better.” Niall is well aware that by this point he’s blabbering, but he can’t seem to make himself shut up. “And I really like ya and so I’d asked Leonard, who was so nice ta me as he always is, ta reserve me one of the really nice tables by the water and everythin and I was so super excited fa it all and I didn’t want anythin ta go wrong but then of course, ya know, me parents came and fucked everythin up and then I made it worse and fucked everythin up and then–” 

You had told yourself you wouldn’t respond until the very end of his speech. You’d promised yourself a hundred times since you’d entered through your door that you would let him finish. That was the least you could do. But his words catch you by so much surprise you breathe out, barely audible, “You…” Suddenly trailing off, you peek up at him, seeing his head in his hands. Gulping hard, you feel the sob from deep within being sucked back down your throat. You had braced yourself for a excuse, and a damn good one too. Wasn’t that what cheaters were really good at? Apologizing, making the other one seem like _they_ were the crazy ones? You’d thought through at least fifty excuses he could’ve given you, everything from Leonard being out of his mind to Niall being some sort of undercover spy (hey, you never said they were good excuses)–but out of all of your ideas, this definitely hadn’t been one of them. “You were gonna ask me to be your _girlfriend_?” You sniff, the whispery words getting caught in your throat.


	10. Love's Never Simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Niall stumbles over his words in an attempt to get you back

“You were gonna ask me to be your _girlfriend_?” You sniff, the whispery words getting caught in your throat.

“ _Yes_!” He says with conviction as he throws his hands up in the air. “But I was a bit frazzled at that point as ya can imagine cause there was _already_ a hitch in me plan and…” He takes in a large, quick breath of air before he anxiously chuckles, “I was so nervous.” He runs his fingers through his hair, sighing, “I mean, I know they say love’s never simple, but…”

He trails off as he realizes what his words sound like. “I mean, not that I’m saying that I lov—” He bites his lip to stop himself from continuing, only shaking his head as he worriedly rustles his fingers through his already messy hair again.

At this, you can’t keep a grin off of your face. Quickly covering your laugh with your hand at how flustered he is, you nod, trying to be as solemn as possible. The ball in your stomach that had been growing with every word that Niall was saying had finally begun to unravel itself. You let out a small sigh of relief at the feeling, a small smile growing on your face.

Wanting to make things a bit easier for him--you weren’t cruel enough to want him to suffer _this_ much--but also being a bit curious, you pipe up, “What about the whole ‘ _girlfriend_ ’ thing with your parents?” Only after you’ve already said the words do you realize that you’re squinting at him, maybe even glaring.

At this, he blushes a bit, his neck and ears turning a reddish hue. “I had thought for so long about how I was goin ta ask ya that it just slipped out in front of me parents.” He gulps loudly before he finishes sadly, “And I couldn’t take it back…” Setting his hands on his knees as he leans in, almost pleading, he sighs, “I _know_ it looked bad. Shit, I knew the second it left me mouth.”

His hands instinctively start to reach towards you before he awkwardly sets them at his sides. “It was an accident,” he finishes in a whisper, his gaze finally leaving yours.

You _know_ he’s looking for a response now. He’s told you all there is to tell. And yet, now that it’s your turn to talk, your mouth is dry, your mind suddenly an empty void. The only words that come to mind stumble out of your mouth before you have the chance to stop them. “There are no other girls?” Your eyes are empty as you attempt to avoid his gaze as well as you’re able. It’s the only thing you can do to stop tears from forming.

He lets out such a low, sad sigh that you allow yourself to look at him again. His gaze meets yours as he slowly slides out of the chair, on his knees in front of you. “ _Love_ ,” he scolds, obviously shocked that you would even think such a thing. He scoots himself a few steps forward, walking on his knees as he reaches his hands out to cup your face. “Of course not. Don’t even think that.” He gives you a smile as he begins to rub one thumb back and forth across your cheek, finishing, “You’re the one I want ta be with.”

With a gulp, you whisper, “Not even a model…” You flinch at the image of some cheerleader-turned-rich-Daddy’s-girl playing golf next to Niall, incessantly flirting and getting touchy. You gulp, “with blonde hair and big boobs?”

Shaking his head fervently, he says, “No, not her or some other rich snob from the country club. Only ya, I swear. Whether you’re me girlfriend or not. I don’t care what others think.”

Suddenly, he grins widely as he blinks twice, obviously thinking over your words.

“ _What_?” You ask, a bit indignant, not sure what you could possibly be doing wrong.

He just shakes his head slightly as he chuckles quietly, “Do you really think _that’s_ my type?”

“Isn’t that _everyone’s_ type?” You fire back, setting your hand on top of his.

“Nuh-uh,” he slowly lets out. “ _You’re_ me type, love.” Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re leaning forward into him. Your lips getting closer and closer, almost touching before he suddenly pulls back. “Not here” is all he says as he hops up off the floor. “Come,” he says as he drags out up out of your chair and to your front door.

Opening up the door, he leads you outside as you roll your eyes a little bit, but, still, you’re endeared by it. Abruptly stopping at the welcome mat with a smirk, he starts slowly, “So I know it’s not the way I planned it.” In an attempt at being suspenseful, he takes his time on each word. He knows that his slowness is, bit by bit, prying you apart. Playing it up further, he bends down to picks up today’s paper, still left on your porch. Lifting his hand up dramatically to make a point, he adds, “And sure as hell nothin like ya would have wanted I’m sure…” His smile never wavers as irritation wavers across your face. “Your impatience is showin,” he teases as he elbows you gently. Still, he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of finishing his thought. Only as he hands you the paper does he finally say the words. “Will ya be me girlfriend?” The action reminds you of the first time you two actually met, as he came up onto your porch. All you can do is give a small nod and a smile as your fingers close around the paper. “I promise ta deliver more of these directly to your do--”

“Shh,” you laugh as you lean in to give him a kiss, your hand finding his hair. There were _so_ _many_ times you’d wanted to reach for him, wanted to wrap his hair around your fingers. But then, you were angry. Now, just… content. “Girlfriend,” you say as you pull back suddenly at the realization. Tasting the word, you savor it as it leaves your mouth. “I like the sound of that.”

He reaches his nose out to nuzzle yours as he quietly, gently, asks, “Then what do ya say ta hearing the word once more as I officially introduce ya ta me parents—only this time without any secrets or lying? Like a redo.”

“You sure?” You say thoughtfully, pondering the idea.

“On me honor,” he smiles, raising one hand as some sort of oath.

It’s really all that you’d wanted from the beginning. A way for the two of you to try again, start over. “I’d like that.”


End file.
